


That Much Talking

by SaadieStuff



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Feels, M/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 02:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaadieStuff/pseuds/SaadieStuff
Summary: Set after 1x10. Alex gives Michael the piece of the ship console. Things get heated, in more ways than one.





	That Much Talking

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to have a plot and... I have no excuses?

This screaming match in Michael’s bunker is not their usual style. From the beginning, they had tended to find more quiet ways to hurt each other. But with everything coming to a head - Project Shepard, the mysterious possession incidents, and now Alex giving Michael the ship piece - things had boiled over.

“Because I don’t want you to leave the fucking planet, okay?!” Alex yells back at Michael.

Michael hadn't expected that. He should have, but he didn't, never allowing himself to believe that Alex could want _him_ just as much. So the words come too fast.

“I would stay for you! I _would_ ,” Michael shouts, “And it terrifies me that I’d give up my chance to go home, to be happy, just to--to-- wrap myself in our fucking misery!”

Alex looks like he’s just been slapped. “Wow…” he manages, keeping his composure but shaking his head, “If that’s what you think of us… why even try?" Alex's voice cracks, so he roars harder, "If you could never be happy here, then _go_!”

The next fiery response Michael had been readying dies painfully in his tightening throat.

“Alex, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-- I really--”

“Forget it,” Alex says, and turns away, but Michael grabs his arm, like so many times before.

Sometimes, this is where Alex lashes out, or, on his best days, resists the pull, ignoring the heat of Michael’s hand on him that sends sparks flying. Today is neither one of those times.

They crash together, the way they always do, twirling in orbit, wrapped up as one as their lips find each other, as they so hastily strip of jackets and shirts that something actually _rips_.

And yet, every touch of skin to skin is tender, and accepted with trust.

They’re slower with their pants, only because in their rush they badly fumble the belts, buttons, and zippers, as they stumble backwards.

Pants pooled around their boot-clad ankles, _one, two, three_ dangerously clumsy steps more and the backs of Alex’s naked thighs hit a low lab table. He gasps at the cool touch of metal, not catching the breath before Michael is spinning him around, grip firm around his waist as he does it, keeping them balanced, until Michael has firmly settled Alex’s hips against the edge, trapping his swelling cock under the table.

Alex suppresses an anticipatory whimper as Michael bends him over the table with his own body, chest flush to Alex’s back, one hand in his hair, the fingers of the other digging into Alex’s side for dear life, and Michael’s cock nestled snugly into the cleft of Alex’s ass.

The chilly table under Alex’s chest makes Michael’s skin feel like fire on his back; the contrast is disorienting enough, let alone his lack of grip on _anything_. One arm is bent up under his face, the other helplessly grasps at Michael’s side behind him at an odd angle, tiptoes of his foot barely touching the ground sometimes as Michael shifts over him.

Michael kisses Alex’s shoulders - he can’t reach Alex’s mouth folded over him like he is - lips dragging open mouthed, wet, on Alex’s skin, and teeth nipping softly, all peppered between reverberating grunts as Michael thrusts up. Over and over, cycling through erratic, lazy, desperate.

Alex is already sweating and rock hard and nothing has even happened yet. It’s driving him _crazy_ , Michael’s cock _right there_ , teasing him with every pass. Neither of them are able to reach Alex’s cock, and Alex is already so riled up he thinks he might be able to come just like this, without a touch, without Michael even inside him, but that doesn’t mean he _wants_ to.

“ _Fucking hell,_ Guerin,” Alex groans, “Do it for real!”

Michael stills for a moment, “We don’t have--”

“Don’t care. Make it work,” Alex rasps out, rocking his hips back as much as he is able, which isn’t much for how tightly Michael is pressed up against him.

“No. Too much,” Michael says apologetically, but it doesn’t matter anyways, he’s so close already.

Michael runs his hand formerly gripping Alex’s hair down to his neck in a soothing stroke, but it’s of little comfort. Alex whines frustratedly, but he gets it, and it would be - _too much._

“Come on then,” he urges, leveraging his forearms to arch up into Michael. 

Michael begins to move again, picking up the stilted rhythm from before, but not for long, as soon, short, stuttered, thrusts take over. Alex can feel Michael’s heart hammering into his back, feel Michael tense all around him, feel Michael’s cock slide with ease now in the hot wet come spilling out, feel Michael huff out a breath and sag on top of him.

As the last bit of tension drains, Michael’s right hand drops from Alex’s hip finally, and Alex’s hand finds it, locking their fingers together, telling Michael it’s okay to _stay_. And he does, for long moments, catching his breath, and then, resuming soft kisses at the base of Alex’s neck before stretching for a real kiss. As Michael moves, the tip of Alex’s straining cock brushes the underside of the table and Alex quivers beneath Michael as a jolt of cool pleasure runs through him.

“Sorry,” Michael mumbles as he begins to get up, but doesn’t go far, kissing down Alex’s back, then sliding onto his knees behind Alex, wasting no time taking Alex’s cock in hand and licking up towards the base, over Alex’s balls, tasting his own come trickling down.

Alex gasps, and scrambles for purchase on something, but the table is impossibly smooth.

“Is this what you want?” Michael asks as he teases a finger at Alex’s rim, coated and slick.

“Fuck,” Alex groans, “ _Yes_ ,” he hisses as he presses back against Michael’s finger, even though he doesn’t care at this point, knowing he won’t last two minutes no matter what Michael does, as long as he does _something_.

And he’s right - Michael makes short work of him with his mouth and fingers, and Alex comes with a relieved, bitten-off shout. He slumps against the table, legs just about giving out for how numb they are from the unnatural position. Michael notices.

“You good?” Michael asks, standing up behind Alex, running a hand over Alex’s hip, and partly pulling on his own pants as he stands before realizing the extent of the sticky mess he’s caused.

“Yeah,” Alex sighs.

“‘Kay, don't move - I’ll be right back. We already got enough jizz on our pants,” Michael says casually as he pats Alex’s ass.

Alex groans and closes his eyes, pressing his cheek to the cool metal of the table, listening to Michael walk across the room and then back.

Michael cleans Alex off as best he can with the paper towels he retrieved, while Alex begins the slow process of peeling his limp body off the table, then tentatively stretches his legs out behind him. Michael crouches and grabs Alex’s pants from around his ankles and pulls them up, turning Alex around as he does.

“Sorry,” Michael says as he settles Alex’s jeans on his hips and sees the red indents the table has left there, rubbing his thumbs over the marks on both sides.

Alex can tell they’ll fade away within the hour. “It’s nothing,” Alex assures Michael with an unhurried kiss, dancing them into an embrace, then pulling away just enough for Michael to observe a shy grin housing whispered words, “But next time, somewhere softer would be nice.”

A lump forms in Michael’s throat, thinking of the fight that got them here. But he’s always braver like this, in Alex’s arms, and he plucks the loaded words from the air before they vanish.

“Next time?” he asks softly.

“I think…” Alex starts slowly, biting his lip and looking away, but not really, not ever. “I think as long as you’re on this planet… there’s always gonna be a next time…”


End file.
